


Number Three

by cookiesandcreambrownies



Series: Three Fundamental Truths [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: A very twisted version of the Election of 1800, Alexander Hamilton is Alexandria Schuyler, Another Lafayette rescue, F/M, For the third time, Inspired by yet another lyric in Satisfied, Jefferson is an asshole in the beginning, Near Death Experiences, None of these tags are in chronological order btw, Not so happy ending, Not that anyone's surprised, The Schuyler business, Very little politics for once, War, a duel, a hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28542582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookiesandcreambrownies/pseuds/cookiesandcreambrownies
Summary: Alexandria Schuyler protects her family, at any cost. God help anyone who threatens her loved ones.Ft. Alexandria Schuyler, Thomas "simultaneous asshole and friend" Jefferson, James "doesn't care" Madison, Peggy "literal firecracker" Schuyler, and the rest of these hopeless messes.
Relationships: Aaron Burr/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Angelica Schuyler, Hercules Mulligan/Margaret "Peggy" Schuyler
Series: Three Fundamental Truths [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1911835
Kudos: 14





	Number Three

**Author's Note:**

> For the last time...

Xandri is the eldest. She is a role model for her siblings. 

This has been drilled into her since she was four and had three younger sisters already - Angelica, Elizabeth, and Margarita, whom she calls Angie, Eliza, and Peggy. 

She is the eldest, and she is a role model. 

It is hardly a stretch to say that she has inherited both her father’s brains and her mother’s charm. The socialites of New York whisper of her beauty and her wit, of the features she possesses and the cunning she employs. 

They are a nest of snakes, she thinks, and does not take another glance at them, does not give another second to their hushed conversations (“ _Be careful, or she will rip you into pieces with her tongue_ ”), does not let them know for a single moment that they are being seen or heard. 

Of course, this is years after her debut into the New York elite - Mother descends from a long-dead King of Scotland as well as the family that founded New York, and Father is from one of the most prominent families in the area - but she never lets her guard down. 

Her sisters see this, and as the war looms steadily closer, they emulate her. 

It starts early, in fact, much earlier than what most people think as an appropriate age. 

At nine, she finds her father’s checkbook and points out a mistake in the numbers. Angie joins her as she explains that _No, the six carries over, you see? And then you need to add one, so it turns to eight instead of seven, which means that Daddy lost a thousand dollars - because that’s the thousands place, understand, Angie?_

Angie listens attentively, though Xandri isn’t convinced she understands. It’s okay, though. Angie’s eight. She doesn’t need to know. 

Her father finds her in the middle of an impromptu lecture on maths beyond what her tutors have taught her. 

“Where did you learn that?” he asks, curious as opposed to scolding, like most other men are when they hear of a woman, of a girl learning math. 

She grins at him, unrepentant. “I snuck some of the higher level maths books out of Mr. Evanson’s bookshelf. He was so slow, Daddy, why can’t he hurry up?” 

He smiles, a patronizing gesture. “I’m sorry, darling, but that’s how little girls learn.” 

Xandri makes a note of never telling her father about the chemistry books tucked away under her bed, or the physics one in her pillow. The classic novels, though, she’s pretty sure she can mention. 

At ten, Eliza joins her and Angie. Peggy stays behind - she’s only seven - but the three of them pore over the diagrams in the biology textbook Angie managed to sneak past her own tutor (she’s so proud). Eliza wrinkles her nose. “Xandri, isn’t there something more interesting to read than this?” she asks, gesturing. Xandri pauses and thinks. 

She introduces Eliza to classic literature, and old history books, telling stories of battles gone by and wars fought and won. They are much more suited to her nature, a storyteller at heart. 

When her birthday passes again, Peggy is included in their little group. Their mother is too busy with managing the estate, anyway, to bother tracking their every movement. 

Peggy is different from all of her sisters - a firecracker, impulsive, diving headfirst into whatever challenge she takes on next. 

At the same time, though, she is as smart as her older siblings, just in a different way; she has the practical knowledge, the way she can judge if that jump is too much or not, if the branch will take her weight, if the window will squeak too loudly when she sneaks out at night. 

So there they are - the Schuyler sisters. 

Angie, the tactician. 

Eliza, the socialite. 

Peggy, the rebel. 

And Xandri, the oldest of them all, a perfect mix of all three. 

(Her father doesn’t really notice, but then again, men aren’t very much inclined to see anything that doesn’t fit into their own worldview.) 

Years pass, and one by one, they join ‘society,’ as her mother is so fond of putting it. Xandri, the first of the new generation of Schuylers, feels breathless as she whirls on the floor of her first ball the night of her sixteenth birthday. 

Not long passes before she sees the socialite circles as a way to get what she truly wants - information, and by extension, power. 

The other ladies giggle behind their gloved hands as they coo over her beauty. She lets them, unwilling to put in the effort of getting them to stop. 

Not that it would take much effort, but still. 

Slowly, she develops her reputation as an intelligent, cunning woman with the looks of Aphrodite herself. Word on the street is that she is fiercely protective of her secrets, mysteriously able to find blackmail on anyone and everyone, and daring enough to use it. 

No one crosses her after the first girl breaks down in front of the assembled elite of New York.  
Xandri doesn’t deny the rumors that follow, nor does she confirm them, but they are enough to secure her cutthroat reputation. 

She smiles. 

When Angie comes out to society a year later, she follows in her sister’s footsteps. The ladies groan (“ _Another one, dear Lord, whatever will happen now_ ”), the men frown (“ _Too forward, that one_ ”). Xandri smirks. 

Eliza’s the most demure out of all of them, and her ball seems like it’ll be normal, for once - though the Schuylers’ balls are notorious for not being normal at all - and it is. 

Well, on the surface it is. 

Under the honeyed words and saccharine smiles, Eliza quietly tears apart the foundation of as many socialite circles as she is invited into. Subtly, so subtly that no one apart from Xandri notices, she turns friends against each other, insinuates messages that are nothing more than subtext - and, technically, the complete truth (ladies don’t lie, after all) - puts just a _hint_ of pity, of sympathy, into her voice. 

The ball is peaceful, but the aftermath is not. 

The inheritance that Peggy comes into - the Schuyler sister reputation - lands on her shoulders, drapes around her like a cape. She wears it like her birthright. 

She brings a change with her, a brashness that would be frowned upon if she weren’t a Schuyler, and lives up to her name. 

The ball held in her honor is also the first one cut short by guests falling ill and needing excessive time in the bathroom, vomiting their dinner. 

It is her birthright. 

Xandri looks on, at Angie, at Eliza, at Peggy, and she sees the intelligence they radiate. They are women, now, by the dictates of society. Women, who are supposed to be inferior to their male counterparts, who should be housekeepers, mothers, wives, who should keep their mouths shut before they show their unintelligent nature. 

Right then and there, she makes a vow to never let that happen to a Schuyler.

  


* * *

  


War looms on the horizon like a specter, shadowing their lives. British troops patrol the city streets as they enforce the curfew. Whispers of a revolution are passed through the shadows. 

Through the dark, Xandri sneaks past soldiers, out of town, and meets with several of her fellow revolutionaries. 

Her father’s a coward. He expresses support for the colonial cause, but despite all his declarations, he doesn’t commit any resources. 

She’s here to change that. 

At seventeen, she was officially recognized as the heir to Father’s business - her parents are still more progressive than most their age. (They did, however, stipulate that she needed to marry before twenty-five.) 

Now, with the power to act in her father’s stead, she is ready to give food and clothes to the revolutionary cause. To lend the Schuyler name to the dissenters. 

In her opinion, it has been a long time coming. 

Angie begged to come, but this particular trip is both long and dangerous, and Angie (eighteen, now, what happened to that eight-year-old listening to her sister explain maths to her?) will not be making the ill-advised journey if Xandri can help it. 

A rap at the door, a code given, and she is ushered into the small inn that serves as the Sons of Liberty’s meeting place. 

“Miss Alexandria,” Samuel Adams exclaims in surprise when she walks through the meeting room door. “What brings you here, and at this hour?” 

“You are the Sons of Liberty, are you not?” she asks without answering the question. 

Adams pauses. “Aye. Why, does your father have business with us?” 

“No.” 

“Then-” 

“ _I_ do.” 

The room is silent. While she waits for Adams’ brain to process her words, she starts cataloguing her surroundings. 

There are eight people, all men, sitting around the lone table. Her brain supplies some names. _Patrick Henry, Nathan Hale, John Hancock, Benjamin Franklin, is that George Washington?_

It is. 

Adams finally speaks again. “If you would like, I can direct you to the Daughters of Liberty-” 

Xandri cuts him off. “I do not need to speak with the Daughters of Liberty. They can, I think, make quilts without me being there. What I do need is for you to be quiet.” 

He draws himself up and puffs his chest out. “How dare you-” 

She ignores him. “Mister Washington, no?” 

“Yes,” Washington says, holding her gaze evenly. “What is it?” 

“Miss Alexandria, I hardly think-” 

“Will you be leading the war effort?” 

A corner of his mouth quirks up. “That is the plan, yes, miss.” 

“Call me Alexandria.” 

“Alexandria, then. Call me whatever you wish.” 

She laughs. “I’ll hold you to it. But for the moment, may we discuss a matter? Privately?” 

“As you wish.” 

She follows him to an adjoining room before speaking. “I will be frank, Mister Washington. My father is a businessman at heart and will not commit to the cause before there is proof that the colonies have a chance at winning. Because, as you may imagine, it certainly does not seem so right now.” 

“This is not exactly news. Philip Schuyler is notorious for his issues with… ah, decisiveness.” 

Xandri snorts. “To put it lightly. _However_ , I am not as indecisive as he. Consider this your official notice that the Schuylers will help, in whatever ways possible and necessary, with the war, should you choose to wage an official one. No matter what Philip Schuyler might say.” 

Washington is shocked. “Are you sure you have the authority to say that, Mi- Alexandria?” 

“Yes.” 

“How…?” 

Another smile, this time without any real emotion behind it. “Ask no questions, and I will tell no lies.” 

He studies her and nods. “In that case, I thank you - and your family.”

  


* * *

  


The colonies have declared war. George Washington leads them. 

Xandri is not at all surprised. 

True to her word, she sends the first shipment of grain out to the army - without her father’s knowledge, of course - as soon as Washington sends a letter, asking for aid. Her sisters help without complaint. 

It is satisfying, knowing that she is, at least indirectly, contributing to the war effort in a meaningful way. 

There is news, constantly, of battles and skirmishes, of British redcoats and colonial minutemen. Much of it does not sound promising for the colonial cause. 

Xandri ignores these missives, ignores her father's fretting and worry, ignores the Loyalist socialites' looks. It would not do to lose her nerve so early - the war may yet be won, though only with no small effort. 

She sends another shipment, this time of clothes, the next day.

  


* * *

  


Winter comes, and with it, snow. Washington takes advantage of this and manages to drive the Hessian troops, allies of the British, away from New Jersey. 

New York is secure. 

The colonial army winters just outside the city borders. Morale is high, especially after Christmas Day, and buildings are festive with decorations. Xandri smiles as she sends another box of cloth to the army encampment.

  


* * *

  


Another year passes, and with it passes a string of defeats for the colonies, a string of victories for the British. Father is, more than ever, indecisive of which side he should support. His heart lies with the colonies, his mind with the British. 

Internally, Xandri scoffs at him. 

“Xandri, come on,” Peggy says, tugging at her sleeve. “You don't ever do anything with us anymore.” 

A retort is on the tip of her tongue - _I need to help with the business, I need to send the army their supplies_ \- but she pauses and reconsiders. Peggy's right. 

So instead of brushing her sister off like she has the urge to, she smiles and asks, “Well, alright, then. What’re we doing?” 

Her bright smile in answer is absolutely worth it.

  


* * *

  


Turns out they’re having a ball.

  


* * *

  


It is at the Winter’s Ball, as it is so christened, that she first meets a soldier by the name of Aaron Burr. 

He is a Lieutenant Colonel, one of Washington’s aides-de-camp, and part of the contingent of soldiers given leave to attend the ball. 

The ballroom is warm and well-lit, a stark contrast to the weather outside, and people mill around and make conversation. Most of what remains of the New York elite is here as well, and Xandri spies her socialite acquaintances on the floor even as she stays at the edges of the crowd. 

Aaron is one of several men (boys, really) who don’t really fit with the upper class that make up the rest of the attendees. She walks up to him. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around, Mr…?” 

“Burr, Aaron Burr,” he tells her, smiling. 

She recognizes the name. An orphan, goes the gossip, an orphan with an inheritance to rival the King of England’s, whose mother was a genius, whose father was the president of Queen’s College. Who is, by all accounts, a massive flirt. 

This boy won’t know what hit him. 

“Mr. Burr. Pleasure to meet you.” 

“And you as well, miss. Might I know your name?” 

Ah, and the trap is set. “Miss Alexandria Schuyler.” 

“Schuyler? But that means… oh, it doesn’t matter, not in the face of such beauty as you possess.” 

“I haven’t a clue as to your meaning.” The smile that curves on her lips suggests otherwise. 

Before he responds, Aaron holds out a hand with a very clear meaning: dance with me? She takes it, a silent acquiescence. 

They twirl and step in time to the music, faces flashing by. 

“Why, your looks are extraordinary,” he finally says, picking up their conversation. Well, at least from his perspective. 

She’s only looking to see how long she can string him along before she breaks his heart. 

Or at least his ambition. 

It would have been but a few hours, at most, except for the fact that Eliza is motioning to her from the side of the room, a familiar expression on her face (she is lovestruck, Xandri thinks, like the fools who think to marry into society). “I thank you,” she tells him, then hastily extricates herself. 

“Xandri! I met the most wonderful man earlier,” Eliza gushes. 

“Eliza, get ahold of yourself. First, who is it?” 

Her sister looks around and points. “Him, you see? One of the soldiers - you were dancing with him a little earlier.” 

Xandri’s heart drops. 

She knows whom Eliza is speaking of, of course; there is but one soldier she has danced with all evening. “Would his name be Aaron Burr, by any chance?” 

Eliza fairly squeals. “Yes. I’m going to marry him, just watch.” 

Xandri is the eldest. 

She is uncertain of how deep Eliza’s feelings run, but she knows one thing, at the very least - there is a distinct probability Aaron will break Eliza's heart. 

Xandri is the eldest. 

She wants to tell Eliza, right now, as she should, as her older sister, of her suspicions, of her misgivings - but she cannot bring herself to do so. Eliza deserves all the happiness in the world (she can make her own happiness, a small voice whispers, but Xandri pays it no heed) and it would not do to take away any joy in her life. 

Xandri is the eldest. 

Angie is not. 

Looking around, she finds the oldest of her sisters talking with some other soldiers. Perfect. 

“Wait here,” she instructs Eliza. 

She sets off to grab Angie and explain the situation. 

Angie looks at her in alarm. “Xandri? What is it?” 

“Angie-” She notices the gazes of the soldiers. “Perhaps you should introduce me to your newest acquaintances first.” 

“Ah, yes. This is Mr. John Laurens, an aide-de-camp; Mr. Lafayette, who has a ridiculously long name, and hails from France; Mr. Mulligan, a soldier.” 

She gives them all a winning smile. “How nice to meet you all. Alexandria Schuyler.” 

The inane conversation tests her patience, though she manages to learn that Aaron is friends with them, but at last she manages to finagle the two of them away, into a corner. 

“There is a problem, Angie.” 

Her eyes narrow. “What?” 

“Eliza wants to marry Aaron Burr.” 

She does not miss the flash of alarm in Angie’s eyes - _good, maybe now she’ll help_ \- or the envy afterwards. 

For the second time that night, her heart drops. 

Angie is infatuated with Aaron Burr as well, it seems. But just as Xandri is protective of all of her younger sisters, so too is Angie with Eliza and Peggy. Eliza especially. And she knows instinctively that Angie will give up her happiness for Eliza. 

“I will talk to him for Eliza, then,” Angie says dully, a false smile pasted on her lips. 

Xandri knows that any entreaties she may have will be useless now. She nods, resigned. “If you would, that would be great.” 

Later on, she learns from her father that Aaron is seriously courting Eliza. Xandri tries to ignore the unease coiling in her stomach.

  


* * *

  


She runs into John Laurens again a few months later, as winter starts turning to spring and finally, finally, the dreadful winter known as Valley Forge ends. 

He is emaciated, as all the soldiers are, even with the extra grain and cloth Xandri has been smuggling all winter long. His cheekbones jut out starkly against pale skin. 

"Mister Laurens," she says, slightly surprised. "How surprising to meet you here." 

John cracks a smile. "Trust me, no one is more surprised than I. But I have an errand to run, since Aaron is currently assisting General Washington with a more pressing matter." 

"I see. Where is your destination, if I may ask?" 

"Your father's house, actually." 

Xandri smiles. "I'll escort you, then. And in the meantime, you can tell me what business you have with my father." 

"Oh, but it wouldn't be suitable-" John protests. 

"Nonsense," she says, cutting him off. "I run his business in all but name now, and even that will pass to me when he passes away. If you can discuss it with him, you can discuss it with me."John acquiesces easily enough, and they fall into step next to each other.

  


* * *

  


Xandri places a certain feeling of hers the next day. 

She is in love. Or, at least, she has given her affections to- 

John Laurens. 

The realization leaves her reeling. It's crossed her mind, yes, that she needs to find a suitable husband, and fast, but she has never once in her life thought that she would fall in love with a soldier. 

Turns out love doesn't care for what anyone thinks. 

After careful consideration, she finds herself at an impasse. One the one hand, she truly thinks that she could love John, in her own way, with time. Certainly, he has already stolen much of her heart. On the other hand, however, she doesn't know if he likes her back. Or if marrying a soldier in a time of war is wise. 

Probably not, her brain says. 

Too bad, her heart replies. 

Eliza takes one look at her and drags her into their shared bedroom. "What happened?" she demanded. "You never look like that." 

"Like what?" 

"Like you don't know what to do." 

Xandri looks at her with wide eyes. "Do I really?" 

"Yes." Eliza nods firmly, and Xandri is inclined to believe her - of the four of them, she has always been the most adept at reading emotions. "Now spill. What is it?" 

She sighs. "You know how you feel for Aaron?" 

"Yeah?" 

"It seems that my heart has decided that it would be prudent for me to feel the same way for John Laurens." Eliza's eyes widen comically as she squeals. 

Xandri shushes her. "We don't need the entire house hearing. Where are Angie and Peggy, by the way?" 

"Probably in their room or something. Though they might be down near the army encampment. For what reason, I don't know. But I'm willing to bet it's the same thing as you." 

She almost groans. All four of them, in love with soldiers? Even a fool can predict the nearly inevitable disaster in the future. 

"Do they really also fancy soldiers?" 

Eliza gives her a mock glare. "Don't change the subject. John Laurens, you say? He's not bad. Rich enough that Father won't mind, either." 

"He's pleased enough that Aaron has a fortune already." 

"Still. You ought to tell John." 

"Oh, he's John already, is he?" she teases, though her heart isn't truly in it. With another sigh, she nods. "I'll see what I can do."

  


* * *

  


She doesn't think she's ever seen Philip Schuyler, the consummate businessman, so overwhelmed, ever. Faced with four soldier-boys, each there for the same thing - what must her father think? 

"So," he begins, holding up a hand, "let me get this straight. You four have decided that you would like my blessing to marry one of my daughters each." 

Four heads nod in the affirmative. 

Xandri watches from the second floor balcony, amused. 

As Eliza predicted, Angie and Peggy have also fallen in love with soldiers. And, as luck - or fate - would have it, the four they fancy are the four friends from the ball. 

Aaron Burr, asking for Eliza's hand. 

John Laurens, asking for Xandri's. 

Lafayette of the incredibly long first name, for Angie's. 

And Hercules Mulligan, for Peggy's. 

It's a slightly surprising development, but she doesn't mind. In fact, she's curious to see how it plays out. 

Downstairs, her father continues to speak. "I am not opposed, but I will cede to my daughters' wishes on this matter. Is that understood?" 

"Yes, sir." 

Father beckons a servant over, saying, "Fetch my daughters, please." Xandri knows that's her cue to run back to her room and tell her sisters before the maid comes. 

She flings the door open wide. "Father wants our opinion on the boys - they want to marry us!" 

There is a mad scramble as her sisters get up. 

"How long?" Angie asks. _How long until someone comes for us_ , is the actual question. 

"Five minutes, at most." 

The maid knocks on the door three minutes later. "Misses? Your father wants you downstairs." 

"Coming!" Eliza says, opening the door. Xandri rushes downstairs with her sisters, stopping at the bottom of the staircase and waiting for her father to invite them into the room. 

"Ah, daughters, come in!" he says, noticing them. Xandri leads with a curtsy before entering. 

"These young men are asking for your hands. It is a… shocking development, to say the least. Still, I've decided to allow it, as long as you are happy with the match." 

"Of course, Father," Xandri murmurs, because that's how it goes. 

"Alexandria, John Laurens here wants to marry you. He understands that you will be running my business after I pass away and that he will be expected to help. Is there anything else?" 

Xandri looks John in the eye. "I will not deny that I have feelings for you. Nor will I deny that I have a reputation for a sharp tongue and an even sharper wit. If you marry me, you will have to put up with it every day, because I will not change my mannerisms to suit a man. If you can't handle that, I would advise you to rethink this decision." 

John smiles at her. "My dear Miss Schuyler, I am already aware of all this. I choose to embrace you exactly as you are, and heaven forbid anyone tries to change you. Don't worry - I will never be sick of you." 

"Very well." Xandri gives one single nod. "Then, Father, I would love to marry John." 

Father also smiles, pleased, and gives his blessing. 

She tunes out the rest of the spiels, thinking about the future. John will be a wonderful husband, she does not doubt, but how well he can handle business remains yet to be seen. 

Well. Never let it be said that she backs down from a challenge.

  


* * *

  


The wedding is postponed until after the newest battle that requires the four men to fight. A battle in New Jersey, near somewhere named Monmouth. Xandri watches her now-fiancé leave with a stoic face, mask firmly in place over the turmoil of her feelings. 

"Come back safe," she still whispers in his ear, just in case. 

She's seen too many war widows, far too young. She refuses to join their ranks. 

They keep regular correspondence, and John keeps her updated on the war front - apparently, as she reads, Charles Lee is an incompetent asshole. Xandri twists her mouth into a sneer and privately agrees. 

It goes like this for weeks on end. Then, out of the blue, she receives a letter from Burr - Aaron, she reminds herself, Eliza's future husband - telling her that _your soon-to-be husband John Laurens is on the verge of getting into a duel, could you please convince him otherwise because nothing seems to be working?_

"John Laurens," she snarls, startling Angie, who's sitting next to her in the drawing room. 

"What is it?" Angie asks, but Xandri's already drafting a reply. Honestly, the _gall_ of that man - to get into a duel, of all things. 

She sends off the letter that night, hoping that Aaron can delay John long enough for her missives to reach him. If Aaron manages it, she'll actually be grateful. 

Which would be a first, but hey, if her fiancé doesn't die, she'll gladly thank him.

  


* * *

  


_John fucking Laurens,  
Aaron Burr - Aaron Burr - Aaron Burr, of all people, wrote to me with some interesting news today. Imagine my surprise when he informed me that you had gotten yourself into a duel. And after I told you to come back safe, too.  
Does potentially getting shot sound safe to you? Because it doesn't to me.  
So I am telling you right now, John Laurens - cease and desist. If you don't, I will be going to General Washington, who is, in case you didn't know, is an old family friend.  
Also, don't give me any shit about "honor." If you will forgive my crude language (not that it matters; I've already cursed several times), fuck honor. It's nothing but a social concept created in order to make male stupidity acceptable.  
If you come home disabled, I shudder to think what Father would say. Don't take the chance. Also, learn some restraint for once.  
Write a letter back once you've done the reasonable thing. Oh, and I'll be sure to ask Burr for his account of events.  
Xandri_

  


* * *

  


_Alexandria Schuyler,  
Can I call you Xandri? Also, please call me John. Or Jack. I just don't think "John fucking Laurens" is particularly appropriate. Still, I suppose it's up to you.  
Anyway, Aaron did manage to hold me back long enough for your letter to arrive, so you have him to thank, although in all the time we've been friends, he's always been like this, so I don't know how much of this was because he wanted to and how much was because his future wife is your sister.  
Just to reiterate, Lee and I didn't get in a duel - I hope you're happy. And I won't talk about honor, because it seems like you're already quite well-informed about that.  
Aaron's writing a letter to you as I do the same. Expect a corroboration of the events soon.  
I'll be back in a week or so.  
With love,  
John_

  


* * *

  


Xandri looks over the letter from John, and then the letter from Aaron. Grudgingly, she admits that Aaron did the right thing for all involved. She pens a quick note to him. 

_Aaron -  
Thank you. I owe you one.  
Alexandria_

No reply is expected, but he sends one all the same. 

_Alexandria,  
I'm happy to be of service.  
Aaron Burr_

Perhaps, she allows, perhaps Aaron isn't so bad after all.

  


* * *

  


As the eldest, Xandri's wedding is the first to be held. It's a private affair, just her family, a few friends from both sides, and the pastor - John said his family had no interest in attending. 

Trinity Church is beautifully decorated with flowers and lace. Xandri tries not to let the apprehension get to her when she sees it. 

The actual wedding itself is a blur. She only remembers a few moments, like paintings in her mind - John's face when she came down the aisle, the kiss, a single tear tracking down Angie's face - but the feeling of happiness in her chest never goes away. 

The wedding reception is just as beautiful, and both Aaron, the best man, and Angie, the maid of honor, give eloquent speeches. 

Xandri kisses John again. 

Their wedding night is as blissful as the wedding itself. When Xandri wakes up the next day, her reflection in the mirror glows. 

John reaches up to snag her in another kiss before she pulls away regretfully. "I need to get dressed." 

"You can wait another few minutes, right?" he counters sleepily. 

"No." She frowns. "It's Angie's wedding today, come on!" 

There is a sigh. "Coming, coming." 

As they get dressed, she takes him through the day's schedule: a tour of her father's business, then a tour of the estate, then the wedding, wedding reception, and a free evening. "I will be busy for the next few days after the weddings are over introducing my future brothers-in-law to the business, as Father will be away for some reason or another," she warns. "You are free to join me if you wish, or stay and explore the estate." 

"We shall see after I am introduced to the business and the estate," he replies. 

A wise reply. 

"Well, then, let's go!" she says lightly instead, running out the door as much as her dress will allow. 

John grins and follows.

  


* * *

  


"And here are the flour mills," Xandri says to Lafayette, Hercules, and Aaron. "They produce over half of the flour in the entirety of the state; Father is very proud of them." 

"Are you?" Aaron asks. 

She frowns. He is quite a bit more perceptive than she first gave him credit for, and it troubles her. "If I may be honest, no. Not particularly. I have always maintained that the cloth industry is much more lucrative." 

The numbers back her up, too, if Father would only listen. 

Lafayette nods. "What else does your father do business in?" 

" _Non,_ " she corrects. " _Je fais des affaires, pas mon père._ " 

"Well, what else do you do business in?" 

"Besides cloth and flour, there is shipping all manners of cargo - we have a veritable fleet of ships. We also trade in spices, and slaves to a much lesser extent, and I have a suspicion that it will be reduced to nothing quite soon." 

Lafayette raises an eyebrow. 

"John," she says in answer, and does not elaborate. 

There's no need to. Lafayette's expression clears, and so does Hercules' and Aaron's; Xandri supposes it is explanation enough. 

She doesn’t tell them about her own reservations on the institution of slavery - there’s no need to upset the status quo, not when her reputation is arguably the most valuable weapon in her entire arsenal. 

They tour the grounds next. Xandri shows them the main house, which is where she and John will reside, as well as her sisters, at least until the war is over and their husbands can find stable housing. It is suitably grand, though by no means opulent (this is wartime, after all), and with more rooms than any of them will ever need. 

She shows them the veritable forest that nearly encroaches on the back lawn, the pines and oaks spreading their branches far and wide. 

“There are more than a few deer here, and bears farther in,” she tells them. “Rabbits and grouse are not uncommon either.” 

Lafayette looks interested, at least. 

When they get to the looms, housed in a separate building from everything else, Hercules perks up. "You make all the cloth you sell?" 

Xandri shakes her head. "Not even close. At most, we self-produce a quarter of our wares, though if only Father would listen to me and expand it, we would increase our profits by at least half again as much as we make now." 

They continue the tour, Xandri playing the part of the perfect hostess. She spits out witticisms at appropriate times, drops interesting facts here and there, blithely dismisses the grandeur and elegance of the house. 

It's a show, a mask, of course. Xandri is - and will remain - suitably wary of her new brothers-in-law until she feels she can trust them, which may not be for a while yet. Or it might be tomorrow. Who knows? 

The last place they visit is the library, which just so happens to be Xandri's favorite place on the entire estate. Smiling, she pushes open the heavy oaken doors. 

The four of them are greeted by rows upon rows of bookshelves, at least twice as high as Lafayette is tall, and he is the tallest among them. More shelves line the walls, and there is a fireplace, with several armchairs arranged in front of it. 

Aaron gasps quietly as he takes in the scene in front of him, dazzled beyond words. Quietly, she nods to herself; that's another point in his favor, though it comes at the cost of losing her sanctuary. 

If Aaron continues to grow on her, though, she might not mind. Perhaps a mind as fiercely intelligent as his in the household will be a welcome change. 

John joins them as they head back in the dining room, where her father is reading a newspaper. He looks up as they enter the room. 

"Hello, Alexandria. John, Hercules, Lafayette, Aaron." 

"Hello, Father." She smiles and leans down to kiss his cheek. 

Her four companions give their greetings as well before falling into an awkward silence, which Xandri mercifully breaks. "Shall we have an early supper? It's been a long day, and besides, tomorrow we go back to business." 

Father nods and says, "That would be wise. Be a dear and get your sisters, would you? I'll ring for the cook." 

She nods and hurries from the room, locking eyes with her husband on her way out and silently telling him to behave himself. He nods surreptitiously, and she leaves, satisfied. 

When she returns with her sisters in tow, her father is going on about a story from her childhood. John is smiling, a little awkwardly, and Aaron is passive as ever; Hercules is very, very bad at hiding his emotions. Only Lafayette, a true gentleman, seems genuinely engaged with the conversation. 

Xandri interrupts by kissing John as she deftly maneuvers herself between him and Father in an effort to preempt any more awkwardness. It works, somewhat, and that's something, at least.

  


* * *

  


Business passes by in the monotony and tedium of day-to-day work. John, Lafayette, and Aaron go back to the army. It is boring, it is dull, and Xandri wants to scream from the lack of anything to do. 

Eliza takes one look at her and laughs for three minutes. "Oh, Xandri, how will you ever survive this terrible affliction called boredom?" she teases. 

Xandri pouts for a moment before giving in and laughing as well. 

Her twenty-first birthday is fast approaching, and Father has told her that she will have full control over the business once she is twenty-one: he and Mother will relinquish their authority, and Xandri will finally be able to start making the changes she's planned for so long. She says as much to John, on one of his rare visits, who chuckles when he hears about it. 

"I don't think there's ever been a more quintessentially _you_ reaction," he says in response to her quirked eyebrows. 

Her birthday is not a horribly large affair, which is a relief - only friends and close family, to account for the wartime drain on supplies and resources. Xandri greets cousins and aunts and third-cousins-twice-removed-in-law for the better part of an hour. John stays at her shoulder the entire time. 

"Dear Lord, I love you so much," she tells him when they have a quiet moment. 

He laughs in response. "I know. I love you too." 

The speeches are over in a blur, and finally, _finally_ , it's time for the announcement. Father stands up at the head table (Father, Mother, Angie, Eliza, Peggy, Lafayette, Aaron, Hercules, John, and herself) and the room goes silent, save for a few stray whispers that die down in seconds. 

"Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for coming today," he begins. Xandri tunes him out until his posture changes - until he finally gets to the important part. 

"-and I am pleased to announce that effective immediately, I will be entrusting the entirety of the family business to my eldest daughter, Alexandria, and her husband, Mr. Laurens." Polite applause greets his words. 

Xandri can almost hear the undercurrent that runs through the room, the words unsaid but definitely in their minds: _A woman?_

She vows, again, to prove them all wrong. 

John leaves the following day for the army, taking Lafayette, Hercules, and Aaron with him. The house once again feels empty. 

Xandri goes to work.

  


* * *

  


They win the war. 

The Schuylers receive the news three days after the British surrender at Yorktown. Xandri allows her mask to slip for a moment and whoops. "We won!" 

Father comes running in. "What?" 

"We won!" 

"We… won?" His expression is the epitome of dumbstruck. Xandri nods. 

Her sisters enter the room then, and they smile and cheer and laugh and cry, because their husbands can come home now, and no one is dead, and everything is fine. Mother brings out some champagne. 

They hold an impromptu celebration in the parlor, and Xandri dashes off a letter to Washington expressing her congratulations. She makes an estimate of how quickly the business can grow once the American economy stabilizes and needs imports and exports and goods. 

But all of that's put to the back of her mind when they come home. They, of course, being John and her brothers-in-law. 

She is up in her room, calculating net profits for the month, when a yell has her peering out the window. Down below, Lafayette rides a horse down the lane - he has always been the fastest rider among them. John and Hercules are not far behind, both laughing as the wind blows their hair back. Aaron rides at a more sedate pace, though he is only a little farther away than the rest of them. 

Xandri rushes down the stairs and is in the foyer with Angie, Eliza, and Peggy by the time the four of them dismount. She tackles John in a hug (and a kiss) as soon as his feet touch the ground. "You're alive." 

He laughs. "Yes, I'm alive. I didn't do anything stupid." 

"Thank fuck you didn't," she replies, relief overcoming her instinct to hold back and act like a proper lady. No one chastises her for it. 

After more greetings, they troop into the house together and sit down in the drawing room. Xandri leans forward. "So, how are things going?" 

"If all goes well, I'll have a house ready in a month," Hercules says first. And while she wishes Peggy didn't have to leave, she's happy for the two of them all the same. 

"Eliza and I can move out at your convenience," Aaron remarks. "Though I would like to avail myself of your remarkable library." 

"Of course. Feel free to write me your observations on whatever you happen to be reading at the moment." 

Aaron nods, smiling genuinely. 

They all turn towards Lafayette and Angie, who have not yet said anything. Xandri raises an eyebrow in a silent question. 

Lafayette sighs. "I am leaving for France." 

"When?" 

"In two weeks, give or take, I do believe." 

Xandri frowns. "But didn't you go back to France during the war already? I remember Angie being mopey for months." 

Angie shrieks and pokes her. "You said you wouldn't tell!" 

"Yeah, well-" 

"I did," Lafayette interrupts with a small smile. "But the revolution in France needs me, now, and I am afraid we must go back." 

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but then - oh. Angie's going to be gone soon. The mask breaks, for but a moment, and she knows they can all see the heartbreak she's kept hidden so carefully. 

Xandri reconstructs her walls. "We should hold a going-away dinner for you two," she says, face and voice blank. 

She waits only for a hint of surprise to flutter across Lafayette's face, for him to school his expression back to neutral, for his agreement that _yes, that sounds wonderful_ , before excusing herself and running up to her room. 

The walls spin as she crashes onto her bed. Dimly, she can hear someone else enter after her, but she's too tired to lift her head up and see who it was. "Yes?" 

"Darling, are you okay?" 

It's John. Of course it's John. What did she do to deserve him? 

"No," she answers truthfully, feeling tears sliding down her face. "Angie's going to be across the ocean, in a hostile place, and I won't be able to know if something happened until weeks after the event. I just feel like - like it's all falling apart!" 

John doesn't answer, just holds her quietly with wordless murmurs and sweet caresses. Xandri sobs on his shoulder until there aren't any more tears left. 

She looks up. "We should head back down and let Father know." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes. I'm okay now." 

When they head back down, Lafayette is there waiting, a concerned expression on his face. " _Ma chèrie_ , are you okay?" 

She gives him a smile, only slightly wobbly. "Yes. I'm very sorry for overreacting." 

He immediately gathers her into a hug. "Don't apologize. I know how it feels, to be left behind and thinking you will be alone." 

That's the moment Xandri finally trusts him.

  


* * *

  


Because it is hunting season, and because men love showing off, and because Philip Schuyler is not an exception to this rule, the dinner ends up as a hunting excursion. Angie and Eliza decline to join. Peggy wants to but is too young, so it ends up just being Xandri along with many, many male acquaintances of both the family and Lafayette. 

Philip leaves Lafayette to choose the hunting parties, who promptly turns around, grinning, and tells Xandri to choose them. She does so quickly, maneuvering the fine line between politics (pairing Adams and Madison together is a recipe for disaster, though she can't fault Madison for that: the only person who can even stand Adams would be Washington) and entertainment (if she puts Knox with Adams, though, and Washington, it'll be hilarious to see the former general restrain himself from strangling the politician) with practiced ease. In the end, by design, the last party to be assembled consists of her, John, Lafayette, Hercules, and Aaron, for a very specific reason. 

Xandri has a small pistol that Father gave her when she reached sixteen after insisting she know how to defend herself. She brings along a bag for the game and some extra bullets, which, now that the war is over, they can afford to use. 

Hercules takes one look at the pistol and laughs. "Are you sure you'll be able to hit anything with that small thing?" he teases. Even John looks on with a little bit of doubt. 

Xandri just smiles. "Watch me." 

They stride off into the woods with plans to meet back at dusk - it is just past noon right now, plenty of time to hunt. Xandri reflexively quiets her footsteps. The others mimic her. 

It's not long before she hears the telltale crackling of leaves that precedes an animal - a rabbit, by the sound of it - quick and small. She raises one finger to her lips. 

A pause, and the rabbit hops out of the underbrush, oblivious. They're lucky that the wind is blowing the right way. 

Xandri draws her pistol, already loaded, and cocks it as quietly and efficiently as possible. Still, it's enough noise for the rabbit to turn its head, barely a few seconds away from noticing them and fleeing. She sights down the barrel and shoots nearly simultaneously. 

The gunshot rings in the air, likely scaring away any more game in the surrounding area, but that's okay: the rabbit is dead, a bullet through its skull, maximizing the amount of meat left edible. Xandri walks over and picks it up, inspecting it with a critical eye. 

"Not horrible," she declares. "Let's see if we can't find something bigger, though." Stuffing the carcass unceremoniously into the bag, she looks at the men. "What?" 

Hercules is looking at her, mouth slightly open; John has an appreciative look in his eyes; Aaron is quietly and passively observing; Lafayette is grinning broadly. 

" _Mon amie_ , I did not know you could shoot that well." 

"That's nothing," she dismisses. "Let's go." 

From there, they encounter several small animals that are all methodically killed, retrieved, and put into a bag. It's not a bad haul by any means, but the lack of larger game, like a deer, leaves Xandri somewhat disappointed. 

The sun is slipping behind the trees, leaving the forest floor full of shadows, and they are heading back when she hears something slightly worrying. There are heavy steps characteristic of a large animal, wet snuffles that generally don't come from deer, and a grunt at one point that doesn't leave much room for doubt in her mind. She halts in her tracks. 

Aaron notices the lack of sound (she's walking in the back of the group) and turns around, one eyebrow raised. His friends stop as well. 

Xandri ignores them all and raises one hand to stop any questions before they attract attention. Bears and boars, whichever one this mystery animal is, are not to be trifled with. 

"Get back," she whispers, and wants to say more, but the sound is coming closer and closer and they have no time. She whirls around, facing the noise, pistol already cocked - spooking away prey is the least of their worries. 

John moves to step forward, but she pushes him back. "You guys don't even have any bullets left." Which is true and a valid point. 

She can tell he wants to argue, but then the animal - it's a boar - appears from the brush. Xandri can see the moment it processes their presence, and the moment it decides to charge, with its wicked, wicked tusks. 

She shoots. 

The bullet rips a hole through its chest, but it doesn't stop, despite the steady stream of blood. Instinctively, she reloads the pistol, the movements ingrained in her muscles, and cocks it. 

The boar is ten feet away when a bullet rips through its head and it finally falls dead. 

Its momentum is so great, however, that Xandri still has to dive out of the way to avoid getting impaled. She crashes to the forest floor and stays there for a moment before shakily getting to her feet. 

John runs over. "Xandri!" 

"I'm fine," she says, waving him off with her free hand, which is slightly bloody from when she caught herself as she fell. It's nowhere near as bad as the mess on her knees, though, where the skin has been completely scraped off. 

Aaron appears next to her, looking worriedly at the blood. "We should get you to a doctor." 

At this, Xandri can't suppress the snort. "This isn't something that needs a doctor. I'll get it cleaned up when we get back to the house, now help me with the giant boar." She walks over to where Lafayette and Hercules are, stumbling slightly. 

The two men look up at the sound of her approach. "Are you okay?" Hercules asks, concerned. "Aaron told us not to crowd you." 

"I'm fine. The more important thing is how we're going to bring this," she motions to the carcass, "with us to the meeting point by dusk." 

Lafayette's laugh is a touch hysterical - _shock_ , she thinks. "Xandri, you needn't worry about that. Do your injuries not hurt?" 

She shakes her head. "Like I said, I'm fine. Now, we have, by my estimate, half an hour, so…?" 

Lafayette sighs and braces one arm under the front legs as Hercules does the same with the back legs. "One, two, three." They grunt as they swing the carcass, which has to weigh close to two hundred pounds, around their shoulders. 

Xandri shrugs and resumes walking back to the meeting point. 

By the time they make it back, everyone else is already there, waiting. Her father is halfway to frantic. 

He sees her first and runs up. "How come you're so late? We were all so worried." 

Xandri's about to reply when he sees the blood on her hands and the scrapes on her knees. His eyes widen comically. "Oh Lord, we have to get you to a doctor!" 

Xandri's about to reply to _that_ when he peers up and sees Lafayette and Hercules stagger out of the woods with the boar. 

For once, her father is silent. In fact, everyone's silent. 

"Xandri killed it," Hercules announces to no one in particular. "We didn't even have any bullets left to shoot with." 

She mentally groans and resigns herself to the inevitable storm of fussing that's going to happen. Then she thinks, _screw it_ , and groans out loud as well. "Hercules Mulligan, was that really necessary?" 

Washington, in a rare show of emotion, is gaping at the scene. Her father is shocked, Adams is pissed, and Madison doesn't seem to care. Xandri thinks Madison might be onto something. 

" _You_ killed it?" Father asks. 

She shrugs. "I mean, it was that or get impaled, so I suppose." 

The resultant uproar is something she studiously ignores as she sidles up to John. "Come on. If we start heading back, the rest of them will start heading back, because I swear they're all sheep. Except, perhaps, for Washington. And maybe Lafayette." 

"I'm offended," Aaron says mildly from the side. 

"Oh, fine, you can be included in that list too." 

Her predictions are quite accurate, and they arrive at the house fifteen minutes later. Her mother meets them at the door. 

Xandri pauses. "Peggy's going to be so mad she missed this." 

"Don't tell me she likes to do potentially life-threatening things too," Hercules groans. 

"Yup." She grins at him cheekily. 

The sigh that follows makes everything worth it.

  


* * *

  


Exactly a week after that ill-advised hunt, Lafayette leaves for France, taking Angie with him. Aaron, Hercules, Eliza, and Peggy, all of them already moved out, join Xandri and John on the docks to say goodbye. 

She hugs her sister tight. "Be careful, Angie. Use your head." 

"Don't worry, I will." 

Reassured, she moves on to Lafayette, hugging him, if less tightly. "If I hear a word - _one word_ \- that Angie is unhappy, expect to see me two weeks later at your door. And be prepared to explain yourself," she warns him in French. She's not kidding, either, and it must show on her face, because he nods apprehensively and placates her with a quick, "I understand." 

Xandri nods and steps away. She can feel the corners of her eyes pricking, but _damn it, she's not going to cry._

John chuckles at her side. "It's okay if you cry, darling." 

"No, it's not." 

She waves until the boat disappears on the horizon.

  


* * *

  


The house is so _empty_. 

Father and Mother have left for another house in the countryside, leaving everything to Xandri; Angie is across the ocean; Eliza and Peggy are in town. It's just John and her and the servants in a house meant for an entire family. 

Xandri throws herself even harder into managing the business, and John helps. His influence is clear, if subtle: the Schuyler merchant business no longer deals in slaves. 

She exchanges letters with Angie and Lafayette as frequently as possible, given the distance, and visits her sisters whenever she happens to go into town, but it's not the same. There's still a disconnect between the bustle of her childhood and the loneliness that has invaded her life now. John, bless him, manages to… _distract_ her much of the time. It helps, it really does, but Xandri is just so _bored_. 

Another year passes. Eliza's had a child already, a son that she and Aaron named Philip, after Father. Peggy has not but is quite pregnant. Angie, to the best of her knowledge, is too caught up in the turmoil that is France to bother with kids right now. Xandri doesn't even know if she wants children. 

She doesn't really get a choice. One day, after a week and a half of throwing up in the mornings, she tells John, "I'm pregnant." 

He looks up from his paper. "Are you sure?" 

"Positive." 

John breaks into a massive grin. "We're going to have kids!" 

"Just one," she corrects, "for now. And even then, there's so much that can go wrong." 

"Oh, stop being a pessimist, Xandri. Eliza was fine, right? Let's focus on the good things right now. For example, we're going to be parents!" He can't completely keep the joy out of his voice. 

Xandri smiles despite herself. "Yeah, we are." 

After a light breakfast, she dashes off a letter to Angie and Lafayette and prepares for a trip to New York City. Eliza and Peggy will be quite cross with her if they don't hear the news soon. 

"If you could please have someone prepare the carriage?" she asks the head servant, who raises his eyebrows but says nothing. Well, she supposes she _is_ known for just taking a horse and riding bareback whenever she needs transportation. 

When Xandri goes outside, the carriage is hitched and ready to go. She climbs in without any difficulty, even in her day dress, and they're off. 

Peggy lives closer to the mansion than Eliza, who lives almost perfectly in the center of town (Aaron's a hotshot lawyer). The driver stops in front of Hercules and Peggy's house smartly and helps her down. 

"You're free to use their carriage room," Xandri tells him. She doesn't wait to see if he acknowledged it before striding up to the front door and knocking. 

Hercules opens the door. "Oh, hello, Mrs. Laurens!" 

"Call me Xandri, please," she says, exasperated. This is the tenth time, at least, that she's had to tell him this. "I should think being my brother-in-law more than entitles you to my given name." 

Hercules shrugs but doesn't answer. 

As she steps into the house, Peggy rushes down the stairs. "Xandri!" she shrieks, her abdomen very much swollen. 

"Peggy," Xandri replies, hugging her. "I told the driver to use your carriage house, if that's okay?" 

"Of course, anything for you." 

Xandri leads her sister into the drawing room, where a servant sets down a tea service. They both sit down. She reaches for some cupcakes. 

"So, not that I mind, but is there a reason you're here?" 

Yes, there is, but Xandri doesn't know how to say it, so she blurts out, "I'm pregnant." 

There is a shocked silence that lasts all of three seconds before Peggy squeals in happiness and throws her arms around Xandri as much as she is able. "I'm so happy for you! Do you know what you're going to name him? Or her?" 

She shakes her head. "I only figured it out today. John and I will talk about it later." 

Peggy doesn't stop grinning for the remainder of their conversation. 

A few hours later, Xandri regretfully gets up and excuses herself. "I have to go tell Eliza, or she'll get mad." Peggy laughs and waves her off. 

The ride to Eliza's house is not horribly long, considering the traffic, and Xandri is there in less than an hour. Again, she tells the driver to avail himself of the carriage house. 

A servant opens the door this time. As she steps in, she can hear Philip laughing in the nursery, Eliza probably somewhere close by. Aaron is presumably in his study, reviewing a case or writing a defense or something else related to his work. 

Eliza comes down the stairs. "Xandri! Carla told me you were here, but I thought it seemed improbable. Is there anything wrong?" 

Here's the thing about Eliza: she's just as good at cowing a man as the rest of her sisters. So although the question may seem innocuous enough, Xandri knows its purpose. 

"Everything's fine," she responds. "I just have news." 

"What news is so important you had to bring it yourself?" Eliza teases. 

Xandri smiles. "I'm pregnant." 

"Congratulations!" 

"Yes, congratulations," Aaron says as he enters the room. "How are you doing, Alexandria?" 

"Xandri," she corrects, because Aaron is also her brother-in-law and it's only right that he gets to call her that, too. "And I'm fine. It's been boring, though." 

"Mm," he says as he flips through the sheaf of paper he's holding. She watches as he draws one page out and hands it to her. "Read this for me and tell me what you think, will you?" 

It's short, a simple overview of a law case with Aaron's annotations scribbled all over it. 

Eliza sighs. "I'll leave you two be. Lord knows I can't wrap my mind around this stuff." She leaves in the direction of the kitchen. 

Xandri skims the paper. He's marked the side he'll be arguing - defense - and noted some relevant evidence in response to the obviously biased report. 

"Murder?" she asks incredulously, meeting his eyes with a raised eyebrow. Levi Weeks is a well-known carpenter in New York, still young but already a fine craftsman. 

"Obviously I think he's innocent," Aaron replies. "But the jury really wants to find him guilty." 

She makes a flippant noise of dismissal. "They're idiots. Now, your argument for his innocence is pretty much airtight, which is good, and he's got an alibi, which is even better, but you're missing preparation for the cross-examination and you don't have a very good conclusion. Here, where's your quill and ink?" 

He hands her both, and she sits at a table and starts writing. 

Nearly two hours later, when the sun is high in the sky, Xandri finishes. She passes the paper - the _papers_ \- over to Aaron, who's been - what has he been doing? It doesn't matter, she decides. 

Aaron looks over her words. "This is… really well-written," he says at length. "And logically sound." 

There's no true surprise coloring his words, which means that he, like Xandri, came to the conclusion that their intellects were both quite above their peers at some point between their first meeting and today. She quietly smiles. It's always gratifying to hear that she hasn't misjudged. 

"Did you really expect anything less?" 

"…No." 

After that, she takes her leave, parting with advice and farewells on her lips. It's lunchtime, she's hungry, and the manor is nearly two hours away.

  


* * *

  


Xandri gives birth to a beautiful baby girl nine months later, and she and John name her Angelica, after her sister. Angelica Laurens. 

Angelica is one of the least troublesome babies she's ever met - and at this point she has met many babies indeed - which means that the nanny they hire is barely necessary. Still, they pay the woman a decent amount, if only to guarantee she won't starve. 

Angelica's cousins are many now. There's still no word from Angie on the subject of kids, but Eliza has had Philip and Alexandria already, and a third is on the way, and Peggy's child turned out to be a boy, whom they named Hugh, after Hercules' father. 

Xandri throws herself back into her work. The new United States has only been formed for five years, give or take a few months, and she knows better than many people how vital the Schuyler business is to the fledgling economy. Cloth and flour, especially, are essential, not only as an export, but domestically as well. 

The next few years pass by in a blur. She and John have two more children, another girl that they name Martha for John's sister and a boy that they name Aaron. The older Aaron, of course, is delighted by this news. 

Then, in 1789, Thomas Jefferson comes home. 

That idiot.

  


* * *

  


Thomas Jefferson is the exact type of vile person that Xandri despises on principle: an agrarian slaveholder who espouses his so-called "freedom" - freedom that, apparently, doesn't include his slaves. 

He's going to wreck the economy and the democracy if she doesn't stop him, which means, of course, that the entirety of the Schuyler business is also in opposition to him, as well as any of their connections - and they have _many_ connections. Admittedly, most are in the North, but still. 

She and John are part of the crowd at the harbor, because this is still a monumental occasion, despite Xandri's misgivings, and so the entirety of America, it seems, is gathered here. Of course, it's only the people of New York - why Jefferson, who lives in Monticello, would dock here, Xandri doesn't know. 

The ship pulls in slowly, and as the gangplank lowers, she catches sight of a brilliant fuschia coat. The flamboyance is a sure sign that it's Jefferson's, and sure enough, the man steps out wearing it. 

The crowd cheers. He waves. Xandri frowns. 

For reasons unknown, he makes a beeline towards her and her sisters and all their husbands. 

"John Laurens?" he asks. 

John nods. "That's me, Mr. Jefferson. Did you need something?" 

"Oh, no, Lafayette just told me about you while we were in France… and are you Hercules Mulligan?" 

Smiling faintly, Hercules replies, "Yes. And to save you the trouble, this is Aaron Burr." 

Jefferson claps his hands, delighted. "Wonderful! Shall we get some drinks? Lafayette's told me so much about you three - oh, of course we must bring James along as well, wherever he is. And the ladies, well, I'm sure they'll be fine away from their husbands for a few hours." 

Aaron regards him coldly. "My wife may join us if she wishes to." 

"My wife _will_ join us, I'm sure," John adds, looking at Xandri. She merely quirks up one corner of her mouth. His eyes crinkle in response. 

"If Peggy wants to join us… do you, dear?" 

Peggy grins and nods. "Of course. This sounds fun." 

"I suppose I can tell them about the Marquise," Jefferson says, frowning. "Too smart for her own good, in my opinion." 

Xandri barely restrains herself from laughing when she glances over at her sisters, well aware that he's talking about Angie. 

Oh, he's going to be surprised when he finds out who Angie learned all that from.

  


* * *

  


The bar that Jefferson gives them the address for is fairly high-end, and he meets them there with another Southern aristocrat, James Madison. Xandri considered him a friend, once, right after the war ended, but he's best friends with Jefferson, and that's a problem. 

Eliza and Peggy are both there as well - for the entertainment, she suspects - and they wait as Jefferson and Madison make their way from the carriage. 

"Hello, gentlemen. And ladies, of course," Madison says, inclining his head. Jefferson sniffs disdainfully and walks inside. 

They have a private room. Jefferson rattles off a highly fancy drink order, while Madison sticks with whiskey, and the other men go with beer. Eliza and Peggy each have a glass of white wine. Xandri asks for vodka. She has a feeling she'll need it. 

Jefferson raises an eyebrow at her choice of drink but says nothing. Everyone else, even Madison, is much too used to such things from her by now to even notice. 

Before the drinks even arrive, Jefferson starts talking. "Well, it's nice to meet you all in person. Lafayette sends his regards." 

"How is he?" Aaron asks. 

"Fine. Well, as fine as a noble can be right now in France, what with the revolution over there. Shame, too, that his wife is technically a noble as well. She's pretty, and American, to boot, just too smart of a mouth." 

Xandri twists her mouth in disgust. "Shut your mouth." 

"What, because you told me to?" Jefferson laughs in her face. "Yeah, right." 

John puts a hand on her shoulder. "Don't punch him," he whispers lowly. "It's not worth it." 

Instead of answering, she knocks back the entire glass of vodka that's just been placed on the table and asks for a refill. The alcohol burns, but it does its job: distracting her from the bastard sitting in front of her. 

"Are you sure that much alcohol is good for women? Surely their delicate constitutions cannot handle it," Jefferson asks. She can't tell if the concern in his eyes is real or feigned. 

John, Hercules, Aaron, and Madison snort in unison. Eliza and Peggy don't bother to hide their laughter, either. 

"What?" 

"Xandri can drink _everyone_ under the table," John informs him. "Even Washington." 

Madison whistles. "Really? How'd you find out?" 

"Remember that going-away hunt the Schuylers held? Yeah." 

"Oh, the one for Lafayette?" Jefferson interjects. "He told me about it - didn't someone kill a boar? An Alexander someone or the other?" 

Xandri sees the men trade glances with each other as they presumably try to decide whether or not to tell Jefferson that she killed the boar. She makes eye contact with her sisters, smirks, and sips her vodka. 

Peggy has to cover her mouth to stop herself from laughing again. Eliza presses her lips together so hard that her mouth is just a line across her face. 

"Yeah, someone killed a boar," John says carefully. 

"So Lafayette wasn't lying! I didn't believe him when he told me." 

"Mhm." 

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she interrupts. "I killed that fucking boar because it would have killed me otherwise, and I will not have you say otherwise, sir." Eliza and Peggy fairly collapse from their cackles. 

"Impossible." 

At this, Madison shakes his head. "Absolutely possible. And it's true, I was there - though I missed the drinks, it seems." 

Jefferson still doesn't accept the truth staring him in the face. "What, are you all playing a practical joke on me? It's not funny, please stop." 

"Scared, Jefferson?" Xandri asks. 

He scoffs. "Why should I be if it's not true?" 

She's about to respond - they're all about to shout over each other - when the family footman rushes in and hands her a letter, marked _Urgent_ , and leaves. 

It's in Angie's handwriting. 

Xandri ignores the rest of the room and tears open the envelope. Dimly, she can hear Jefferson whisper, "Was that the _Schuylers'_ servant?" to Madison. 

She frantically reads the letter over, trying to figure out what could be so important. One sentence jumps out at her. 

_Lafayette and I are in mortal danger, Xandri._

That's all she needs to read before she's jumping up and tripping over herself in her haste to _get out, get to France-_

John puts one hand on her arm and stops her. "What's wrong?" 

"I'm very sorry," Xandri says, articulating every word in an effort not to hyperventilate, "but I need to leave immediately. It was wonderful being here, and Eliza, you and John should take over in my absence. I will not be back for at least two months. Give Angelica, Martha, and Aaron my love." 

She rushes out of the room as the questions start, intent on leaving as soon as possible. 

Before she can even make it down the street, someone grabs her arm. Whirling around, she snarls at the familiar face. "Let me go." 

Damn Jefferson and his long legs and his ability to wear unrestricting clothing. 

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," he replies stubbornly, almost mulishly. 

"Why do you care? I'm just a woman, _emotional_ , right?" Xandri bites back as she tugs her arm free. "Goodbye." 

Of course nothing's ever that easy, and he catches up even quicker. "Look, can I at least get your name? So I can check in sometime." 

"Again, why do you care?" 

Jefferson blows out a breath and runs his free hand through his hair. "Because Lafayette speaks quite fondly of your husband, and Lafayette is my friend, so therefore I'm trying to keep his friend's wife safe." 

At this, Xandri stills and turns around so she's facing him properly, face set in a glare. He takes a nervous step back and releases her in the process. 

"Did you read the letter?" she asks. 

"What?" 

"Did you read the letter?" 

"Yes," he says hesitantly. "It's from Lafayette's wife, and while they're in danger, yes, I don't understand why you're dropping everything to help them." 

Xandri's glare intensifies. "Lafayette's wife, you idiot, is my sister. Eliza and Peggy are my other sisters. And you, Mr. Jefferson, can either help me - because while I loathe you, for reasons undisclosed, I will take any help I can get that does not inconvenience my family - or you can leave now and let me be." 

He's silent for a moment, and she's about to march off when he finally opens his mouth and asks, "Your sister?" 

"Alexandria _Schuyler_ Laurens, absolutely not at your service. The Marquise de Lafayette is Angelica _Schuyler_ du Motier. See the connection yet?" 

Jefferson's jaw drops. 

"Now, are you coming or not?" 

"Oh- yes, I will," he says hurriedly. "I'll be just a moment." 

Xandri raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Meet me on the docks in fifteen minutes. If you're not there, I'm leaving without you." 

This time, when she walks away, he doesn't stop her.

  


* * *

  


He's there on time, and she's already paid for passage to France on a mediocre ship that will serve its purpose well enough. Jefferson takes one look, wrinkles his nose, and opens his mouth to say something. 

"Don't you dare," she warns. 

He shuts his mouth. 

Xandri doesn't know why he's so cooperative all of a sudden - maybe it has something to do with the fact that she's a Schuyler? - but she's not complaining. Unlike him. 

They're off in another five minutes. The captain shows them to their room, singular. At least there are two beds. 

There's nothing to do as they sail across the Atlantic, and Xandri is quite bored. She changes into a day dress - thankfully, they have separate bathrooms - and goes up to the main deck to explore. 

It's part cargo ship, part passenger ship, but they seem to be the only passengers onboard. The crew is rather untalkative, which leaves Xandri back in her original conundrum - she still has nothing to do. 

When she goes back to the room, Jefferson is engrossed in a book that he brought. Xandri catches a glimpse of the title and brightens. 

"You read John Locke?" 

He looks up in surprise. "Yes, of course - when I wrote the Declaration of Independence, it was very much influenced by him. How do you know him?" 

"I've read his works, too. I heard the Declaration was based on his _Two Treatises_ \- it's a shame, because I haven't gotten around to that one yet." 

Jefferson hums thoughtfully and crosses the room to his bags. He pulls out a well-worn paperback, pages wrinkled and slightly yellowed, and hands it to her. 

It's John Locke's _Two Treatises_ \- from the looks of it, it's his personal copy. Xandri takes it and gingerly cracks the cover open. 

"Thank you," she says, and surprisingly means it. 

"It's no problem." 

They sit in silence and read for a few hours, until the windows give no more light and the lamp runs low on oil. Xandri stands up and blows it out. 

It's obvious that neither of them can sleep. A short while later, Jefferson asks, "Did you know your husband was appointed Secretary of the Treasury?" out of nowhere. 

Xandri did not, in fact, know that. "No. Are you sure?" 

He chuckles in the darkness. "I honestly think Washington wants you as the Secretary, but that's just not how it's done." 

"If you think for a moment that simply because I am a woman, I can't do half the things men can-" 

"Oh, no. I've heard many things about the Schuyler business - I must admit, at first I was sceptical you were stopping importation of slaves - but it was obviously run by an economical genius. And if you don't believe me, ask Lafayette. Lord knows I talked about it many times with him." 

"Then what is it?" 

Xandri can hear his shrug. "Society. I'm no feminist, mind, and don't kill me for that, but society as a whole is so much worse. There's no way even Washington could get away with appointing a woman as one of his cabinet." 

They lay there in silence for a moment before Jefferson breaks it again. "Say, do you know how to speak French?" 

" _Vous me doutez?_ " 

" _Ah, bien sûr. J'aurais dû savoir._ " 

" _Absolument._ " 

The room falls silent again. Xandri resigns herself to a restless night.

  


* * *

  


They land in France two weeks later, in the port of Marseilles. The trip to Paris, where Angie and Lafayette are - or should be - takes another week. By the time the two of them make it to the capital, Xandri is anxious and unsettled. It's been over a month since Angie wrote the letter, and there's a distinct possibility they might have been executed since then. 

If they've been killed… 

Xandri's going to tear down the world. 

Jefferson, beside her, looks as tense as she feels as they approach the barrier that the revolutionaries have set up outside Paris. A guard halts them and pokes his head inside. 

" _Qui y va?_ " 

"Thomas Jefferson _et_ Alexandria Laurens, _des États-Unis_ ," Jefferson answers smoothly. 

The guard nods. Jefferson's name carries a lot of weight here, and they are let past without any further interruptions. Their carriage rumbles down the cobblestone streets and stops outside Angie's last known place of residence. 

Xandri steps out, walks up the stairs, and knocks softly. She waits. 

The door swings open to reveal an unfamiliar face, and Xandri's panic increases. " _Le Marquis de Lafayette et sa femme, ils habitent toujours ici?_ " she asks frantically. 

The woman behind the door narrows her eyes. " _Pourquoi vous voulez savoir?_ " 

" _La Marquise est ma sœur, madame, et je voudrais la voir!_ " 

Jefferson comes up besides her silently. The housekeeper, because that's almost certainly who she is, flicks her eyes over but doesn't comment either. 

Finally, she relents and ushers them inside. " _Rapidement, s'il vous plaît._ " 

There is still no sign of either Angie or Lafayette. 

The three of them sit in a parlor as one of the servants brings tea. Xandri takes it impatiently and raises an eyebrow. 

" _Vous êtes sa sœur?_ " the housekeeper asks. 

" _Oui, madame, où est-elle?_ " She doesn't have time for these games. 

Instead of responding, the housekeeper rings a small bell. A moment later, footsteps sound on the stairs. Xandri's heart lifts. 

It's Angie's face that peeks from behind the banister cautiously. Xandri runs towards her, uncaring of propriety, and Angie does the same. 

"Angie!" 

"Xandri!" Angie hugs her, hard, before pulling away with a frown. "Why are you here? It's not safe." 

"You needed help." 

Angie sighs. "I should have known. When I asked for help, Xandri, I meant for someone else to come over here, someone like…" She looked around the room, eyes landing on Jefferson. "Someone like him." 

"Well, he's here, right? I don't see the problem." 

"Xandri!" Angie chastises. 

It's now that another set of footsteps sounds above them. Xandri spins away, pushing Angie behind her, and grabs for a pistol that's not there. She curses softly. 

"It's alright, that's Lafayette," her sister says. And it is, in fact, Lafayette's face that appears on the landing. He breaks into a grin and runs the rest of the way down. 

"Xandri! Thomas!" he cries. 

Xandri is swept up into a hug and she laughs as she's spun around. "It's good to see you, too, Lafayette." 

Jefferson warmly embraces him as well, and they all sit down as Angie explains the troubling circumstances. 

"Robespierre's cracking down on nobles badly," she says. "I think Lafayette might be the last one in Paris who's not in jail, besides me." 

"And?" Xandri can tell there's more; Angie is one of the most level-headed people she knows, and she wouldn't have written the letter if imprisonment was the only thing on the line. 

"Half of the nobles in jail were killed the first week. Another quarter were killed within the month. Currently, approximately one percent of all nobles, most of whom were jailed two months ago, are still alive." Angie rattles off a horrifying list of statistics. 

"Alright, that's it. You're both getting out of France, because I will not have either of you dying if I can help it. Marseilles is a week away, so we should probably plan on leaving before the day after tomorrow." 

Jefferson holds up a hand to stop her. She quiets but shoots him a glare. 

"If the two of them disappear so soon after we get here, it'll be suspicious," he argues. 

Very carefully, Xandri rolls each word in her mouth before snapping, " _I don't give a fuck._ " 

Jefferson recoils like he's been burned, which Xandri feels a sort of vicious satisfaction from. Angie cackles with glee. 

Before Jefferson can come up with an appropriate response, Lafayette intervenes. "Thomas, do you remember the hunt I told you about?" 

Ah, back to this again. Xandri quite honestly wishes her greatest accomplishment in the eyes of men wasn't killing a boar. 

"Yes," Jefferson replies. "Your friends were playing quite a joke on me." 

At this, Xandri groans and rubs at her temples. He'll give her a migraine at this rate. 

Lafayette is puzzled. "What do you mean? Did they not tell you Xandri killed a boar?" 

"Incidentally, they did, and also told me that she could drink more alcohol than General Washington. I'm inclined to believe neither." 

"But it's all true!" 

Xandri wishes she could just tell Lafayette to drop it, but the ensuing smugness that would surely radiate off Jefferson really isn't worth it. 

As it is, Jefferson doesn't respond, though he turns a little more contemplative now that two different parties have confirmed the same thing. 

There is a knock on the door just as Jefferson starts to reply, which has them all exchanging startled and wary glances with each other. 

"Are you expecting any other visitors?" Xandri asks. 

The housekeeper shakes her head. "Get upstairs, all of you. I will see who it is, but it is sure to be troubling." She has a very thick French accent, but her English is still comprehensible. 

Xandri doesn't linger too much on the thought and instead follows Lafayette up the stairs, shoulders tense. As soon as the four of them round the corner, she holds out a hand. "Where is your pistol?" 

Lafayette glances at her, surprised. "Pistol?" 

"Any gun will do, really, but I'm more familiar with pistols. Do you not have one?" 

Lafayette shakes his head ruefully. "Do you really think we are allowed weapons? Especially me, as a noble. All the firearms are in the Bastille." 

Xandri snarls and looks around for something she can use as a weapon. She's considering using the nails hanging the paintings on the wall when something cold and smooth is pressed into her hand. 

It's a pistol, the barrel gleaming in the candlelight and the handle made of polished wood. She looks up into Jefferson's face, reluctant but certain. 

"Prove you know how to use it," is all he tells her. 

He pulls out another pistol, a twin to the stunning one in her hand, and grins at her in challenge. She smirks in response. "How do you want to do this?" 

"Let's see how many people there are first." 

The housekeeper's voice floats up. " _Trop de personnes! Vous ne pouvez pas tous entrer. Dix, au maximum._ " 

An unfamiliar voice responds, " _Vingt._ " 

" _Quinze._ " 

" _Dix-sept._ " 

" _Seize, et pas plus._ " 

There is a murmur of agreement, and Xandri turns around. "Sixteen, with more outside. Shit." 

Lafayette has already gone pale. "That's Robespierre's personal guard. We are doomed." 

"No, we are not," she says primly. "If you think so, you can keep that to yourself." 

Jefferson snorts. "For once, she is correct." 

"For once?" 

"Yes, yes, whatever." He rolls his eyes, but turns serious in the next breath. "We're going to have to kill them, you know?" 

"Don't underestimate me." 

"Alright, then. The person with more kills wins?" 

"Extra points for a shot through the head," she replies promptly. 

"Sure." 

Behind them, Angie tsks. "This isn't a game, please. Take it more seriously." 

Xandri is both glad for the reminder and disappointed by it - glad because she needed it, but disappointed because she didn't want it. She nods anyways. 

Downstairs, the first of the soldiers (guards?) is filing in. Xandri turns to Jefferson. "Extra bullets, please." 

He doesn't say a word, just fishes in his coat pocket - who even keeps bullets in their coat pockets? - and gives her another two packs. More than enough, hopefully. 

The pistol is already loaded, though uncocked, and Xandri carefully readies it as quietly as she can. A quick peek shows that none of the soldiers have gotten within range yet. 

"Lafayette, Angie, the carriage is in the back. Two black horses. Get in, get low, and there's another pistol in my suitcase - the black one, with the fake bottom, you know the one - if you need it," Xandri instructs. "Jefferson and I will be there as soon as possible." 

"If we get out of this unscathed, you can call me Thomas." 

She shrugs, unsure of how to reply. There's no time, anyway - the first footsteps are on the stairs, and the others are surely not far behind. 

Xandri knows that there's a back door for Lafayette and Angie to escape from, and all they need to do is get to the ground floor. Unfortunately, sixteen soldiers stand in their way. If everything goes to plan, they'll all be dead within the hour. 

She feels numb thinking about it, which should cause some concern, but her mind is blank. 

"Count of three," Jefferson whispers in her ear. "One. Two." 

"Three." 

She spins out from behind the wall, already firing. The bullet flies true and buries itself into one of the soldier's chest. 

The reload takes mere seconds, and Jefferson covers for her; she ducks down, he fires from behind her. It's not planned but definitely helpful. 

Then she's firing again, barely sighting down the barrel before pulling the trigger. Another soldier drops. 

The remaining ones return fire, and Xandri pushes Jefferson out of the way before squeezing off another shot, crouched low behind the wooden railing. 

They repeat this cycle several times. Xandri fires and reloads, Jefferson fires and reloads, they both duck out of the way as the soldiers fire back. 

Finally, the ones that are still alive - smart or cowardly, Xandri doesn't know - retreat back to the front hallway, giving the four of them a clear path down the stairs and to the back door. She goes first. 

None of them, soldiers and not alike, can fire at this angle. The soldiers are betting that they need to get out from the front door - they don't. Perfect. 

That sense of satisfaction lasts only a second before Xandri remembers that there are more soldiers outside. She makes a split-second decision. 

When Lafayette and Angie sneak off through the back, she pushes Jefferson with them and doesn't look back. Then, she runs off towards the front, towards the soldiers and away from her friends and family, ignoring the hushed protests all the while. 

The distraction Xandri provides works. As soon as she appears in the doorway, the soldiers train their guns on her. She raises her hands slowly, pistol still held in her right, finger far away from the trigger. 

" _Lâchez votre arme!_ " one of them barks. She complies, the pistol dropping to the carpet nearly silently except for the hiss as the hot barrel makes contact with the wool. 

Finally, the leader makes a hand movement and all except one of the guns pointed at her are lowered. Xandri knows she has to time it right; if she doesn't, she runs the risk of getting killed. 

As soon as the soldiers start turning their attention elsewhere, only a few still paying attention to her, she drops to the floor like a rock. One hand reaches out for the handle of the pistol, exactly where it's supposed to be. 

There are shouts of alarm as guns are raised again, but she's already fired, and the main threat - the soldier with the gun pointed at her - drops dead. By the time the rest of them have gotten their guns back into position, she's already halfway out the door, running in a flat sprint. 

The entire house is silent for one collective breath. 

Then, the bullets start flying. 

Xandri's anticipated this and dives down into a somersault to the left. Bullets whiz above her as she rolls to her feet and continues to run. 

While the soldiers are reloading, Xandri turns for half a second and fires purely from reflex. As she turns back around, another soldier drops in her peripheral vision. She reloads the gun. 

The lawn offers no cover. Her only chance is to make it out of the guns' range and hope they can't catch up. 

She is more than halfway to the street, where there is a carriage - even if it is not hers, then it can be cover, at the very least, or perhaps she can take one of the horses and ride - when her shoulder explodes in pain. 

"Fuck," she hisses, and grits her teeth. If she stops, she'll die. 

Another stripe of pain appears as a bullet grazes her calf, and Xandri stumbles. Still, she doesn't stop. 

She still has the presence of mind to fire the pistol again, though she needs to use her weaker arm now that her right shoulder has been injured. This time, she doesn't even check to see if any of the soldiers have fallen. 

The pistol is relatively useless now since she can't reload with one arm, but Xandri can't bring herself to toss it away as common sense dictates. It's a fine pistol, and she'll get it back to Jefferson if it's at all possible. Though, at the rate blood is spilling from her shoulder, that doesn't seem very likely. 

Hopefully the others have made it to the carriage and are on their way to Marseilles. She's more than happy to die for them, even Jefferson. 

Dear Lord, John's been rubbing off on her. 

Her feet hit cobblestone. Immediately, she ducks behind the carriage. The horses stamp their feet but don't spook. She pockets the pistol. 

Now, in relative safety, Xandri nearly collapses as the pain radiating from her shoulder takes her breath away. One touch that comes away bloody confirms her suspicions. 

Well. Looks like this is her deathbed. 

The clatter of hooves - _another carriage, shouldn't they stop for a bleeding person?_ her muddled brain thinks - is the last thing she hears.

  


* * *

  


Xandri wakes up in what is decidedly _not_ the afterlife. She's pretty sure pain doesn't exist there. 

Oh, and it's moving. 

Both her wrists and ankles are unrestrained, which means that she's definitely not with the soldiers. That doesn't leave very many options. 

"Hello?" she calls out. 

There are footsteps somewhere outside the room as the door opens. "Xandri!" Angie shrieks, face relieved. 

The shout brings both Lafayette and Jefferson running over as well. 

"Where are we?" she asks. 

"Two days from Marseilles. Oh, Xandri, you gave us quite the scare." 

She laughs weakly. "Did I, now?" 

Apparently, the room isn't a room; it's just a separated part of the carriage. Also apparently, Xandri has been in and out of consciousness for five days. 

"You stupid, stupid woman," Jefferson says without any real sort of bite. "Of course, you thought sacrificing yourself was the best option." 

She snorts and winces as the movement jostles her injury. "You all deserve to live more than me." 

"Don't say that!" Lafayette shouts. At the others' startled looks, he takes a deep breath. "Xandri, trust me when I say that we would all fall apart without you." He looks close to tears. "I don't know what I would do if you were dead." 

"Keep on living," she tells him fiercely through the lump in her throat. "Promise me. Suicide is a coward's way out, Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, you hear me?" 

"I promise." 

"Good." She pauses. "This is quite reminiscent of a death scene, no? And I'm not in danger of dying, so… can I get up now?" 

"Nuh-uh, you're still injured," Angie says. "You're two minutes away from death, you know? We couldn't stop for a doctor, so Lafayette did a… what was it called again, darling?" 

"A field dressing." 

"Right, that. If you make it worse, you could die before we get back to America." 

Xandri lies back down. "Fine." 

Only a few minutes pass before she remembers something important. "Jefferson, did you get your pistol back?" 

"One, I told you to call me Thomas, and two, yes. Why you kept it with an injured shoulder, I don't know." 

"Hey, I wanted to give it back! It's a quality pistol. And to be fair, you told me to call you Thomas if we got out of this unscathed, which, as you can tell," she gestures to herself, "we did not." 

He sighs wearily. "Do you not think, Alexandria, that perhaps sustaining a life-threatening injury on one person's part and tending to that life-threatening injury on the other's part would be even more due cause to use first names?" 

Xandri makes a face. "Yeah, it feels weird to have you still call me Alexandria after all that. Feel free to call me Xandri." 

"Call me Thomas, and we have a deal." 

"Sure." 

As Jefferson - _Thomas_ \- leaves, following Angie and Lafayette out the door, she can't help but say, "By the way, I won." She is rewarded with another exasperated sigh. 

The door closes, and Xandri resigns herself to a very boring two days.

  


* * *

  


The exchange from land to sea in Marseilles is nothing special, and Xandri finds herself a week later in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean with only Angie for company. Both Lafayette and Thomas (it still feels weird to call him by his first name, but as much as she still despises his ideals, he _did_ also save her life, probably multiple times, in a life-threatening situation. There's a bit of a paradox in that) are in a separate room. 

By the time they make it back onto American soil, her shoulder is throbbing and probably infected. As they stand on the deck, watching the land on the horizon approach, she winces and asks, "Lafayette, could you take a look at my shoulder?" 

He does so quickly and efficiently and swears almost immediately. 

"What?" 

"It's not good, Xandri. I couldn't take the bullet out, so it's still lodged in there. Your wound is infected because of that, and it's… just not good at all. You need a doctor." 

Xandri would snort if it didn't hurt her shoulder. "No kidding." 

At least the injury on her leg has scarred? 

The ship docks in New York Harbor, and Lafayette pays the ship's boy to run and tell Eliza and Aaron that they're back. He returns with Aaron with frightening speed. 

Aaron embraces them all, but Xandri hisses through her teeth when his arm wraps around her shoulder. He looks at her, concern written across his face. 

"Are you okay?" 

She begins to wave him off when Thomas, of all people, tells Aaron, "No, she is not, and she needs a doctor, fast." 

"What…?" 

"Suffice it to say that I no longer doubt her ability to kill a boar, there is a bullet in her right shoulder, we were in France at a noble's house, and I shall tell you all the entire story later. Now, doctor." 

Aaron blinks and nods. 

Through gritted teeth, Xandri manages to say, "Get John," before crumpling to the ground. 

Collapsing twice in a month has to be some sort of record for her.

  


* * *

  


When she wakes up again, John is, in fact, there, and very concerned, if his continual pacing is anything to go by. 

"So I'm not dead," she says. 

He stops and whirls around. "Xandri?" 

"That's me." 

"Oh, thank _fuck_ you're not dead. Thank fuck," he whispers as he runs over. 

As Xandri struggles to sit up from the bed, she notices a distinct lack of pain and turns her head to look at her shoulder. 

It's wrapped in layers upon layers of white bandages, and though it seems to have healed a little (the swelling seems to have gone down, at least), it doesn't seem completely healed. 

_But it doesn't hurt,_ a voice in her head says. She decides to test that theory out by poking her shoulder. 

"The doctor put you on morphine," John says, noticing the movement. "And maybe also some stronger painkillers, I didn't ask." 

Ah, that makes more sense than a miraculous healing in just - what day is it, even? 

"It's been a week, dear," John answers when she asks him about it. Xandri isn't particularly shocked - last time she was out for five days. 

She takes a look around the room and recognizes the familiar woodwork and patterning on the walls. It's her room at home, which means that Angie, Lafayette, and Thomas are probably not here, which is a shame. Hopefully he hasn't told the story of their escapade from France yet - Xandri really wants to hear it. 

"Can I get up now?" she asks impatiently. It's been too long since she's actually been able to do anything. 

John shrugs. "Sure. Jefferson, Lafayette, Aaron, Hercules, and your sisters are all waiting downstairs." 

"How long have they been here?" 

"I think they've been staying in the guest bedrooms? It's not like we don't have the space." He makes a fair point. 

Xandri swings her legs off the side of the bed and stands up a little shakily. She's still somewhat loopy from the painkillers, but it's not too bad. Her balance is good enough that she makes it down the stairs without tripping, at least. 

Angelica, Martha, and Aaron (the younger) are probably asleep right now - it's late, and so Xandri is careful not to make too much noise. She'll see them in the morning. 

In the parlor, the people John said were there are there, and they all turn towards her as she steps through the door. Surprisingly, Thomas is the first to stand up and embrace her. "You stupid, stupid woman," he tells her again, repeating his words from before. 

"That's me," Xandri agrees. She accepts several more hugs, and a few tears, before they're all sitting again. "Now, Thomas, I want to hear your version of our adventure." 

Thomas rolls his eyes. "It wasn't an adventure; it was a risky, life-threatening situation to save friends and family. And besides, I already told them." 

She pouts. "I'm going to bed." 

Their laughter fills the air as she goes back upstairs and falls into her bed again.

  


* * *

  


Xandri recovers slowly. For the first two months, her right arm is completely useless. After that, it's only for light use. It's not until almost a year later that she has her full range of motion back in that arm, and even so, pain still flares up occasionally, especially when it rains. In New York, that's most of the time. 

The doctor tells her that the bone had been shattered, and that she's lucky her arm didn't have to be amputated. Xandri doesn't know what to say in response. 

When she throws herself back into work, she discovers something. 

Thomas is correct. 

"What, exactly, am I correct about?" he asks when she tells him this. 

"Washington wants John for me for Treasury." 

His expression clears. "Told you so." 

"Don't need to be so smug about it." 

Being the vicarious Secretary of the Treasury is exhausting work. John doesn't really have a head for numbers; as such, basically all the work falls to her. It's mentally challenging, and occasionally she'll go to Aaron for help. At the same time, it's quite fun. 

Because of the workload, she gives control of the business to Angie, but that doesn't stop her from remembering her resolution years earlier - and whenever Thomas, and James, who has quickly become his accomplice, proposes one of his disgusting policies, she uses the entire weight of the Schuyler name and company to kill them. They still remain close friends - Xandri is of the mindset that personal and political matters shouldn't be mixed. 

This lasts for all of seven and a half years, until Washington decides he no longer wants to be President. Xandri can commiserate; it must be tiring to run a new country. As Washington prepares to resign, both Aaron and Thomas seek her out for advice. 

"Aaron, how nice to see you," she says when he knocks on her door one day. "Come in." 

He does, his face weathered with age. They sit in the parlor and have tea. 

"I want to run for President," he says eventually. "But Jefferson stands in my way." 

"Way of what? Running? I hardly think so." 

"No, winning." 

Xandri purses her lips. "What am I to do about that?" 

"If you could get John to sponsor me, that'd be much appreciated." 

When has John not done what Aaron asked? They're close friends, have been since the war, and brothers, bound together by her family. Still, she nods and agrees to tell John, but warns, "I'm leaving the final decision to him." 

Aaron shrugs. "Fair enough. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must take my leave." 

"Drop by soon." 

Thomas comes by a week later, a visit that Xandri has anticipated. "Thomas, if you're here to speak of the Presidency-" 

"As a matter of fact, I am." 

She sighs. "If you must know, Aaron's already been here. You, sir, are a week behind him." 

"May I come in?" She doesn't miss how he changes the subject. 

When they are both situated in the parlor, again, he speaks. "Xandri, I can't imagine Burr taking America in the right direction. I know you can't either. But we both know that I can." 

She raises one eyebrow delicately. "As a matter of fact, I can most definitely imagine Aaron taking this country where it needs to go. For example-" she takes a sip of her tea "-he doesn't own slaves." 

Thomas groans. "Xandri, I can't just set my slaves free! Surely you, of all people, can see what that would do to the economy?" 

"Yes," she agrees dryly, "but I can also tell you that as long as you are a slaveholder, John will never support you. And I'm a woman, and since _our_ rights aren't guaranteed by either the Declaration of Independence" - and here she gives him a very meaningful look - "or the Constitution, I can't do a single thing." 

"I see how it is. Well, then, if this visit has been for naught-" 

"I'll tell John, of course, but that's all I can guarantee." 

"-then I shall be off. Give everyone my love." It is an abrupt turnaround from his attitude just a day or two before. 

Xandri knows that Thomas is just stressed by the election, that he's being irrational, but she can't help but worry that his anger will lead him to do things he'll regret. Especially since men still have that stupid notion of 'honor' that she chastised John for all those years ago. 

When she does eventually tell John, he looks at her and asks, dead serious, "Who do you think I should support?" 

"Neither," is her immediate reply. "But if you had to choose… personally, I'd pick Aaron. Thomas is a close friend, but your political career would be ruined if you chose a slaver over your brother, who’s an abolitionist to boot." 

"That's a valid point," he says. "Well, we'll see how it goes." 

"That we shall," she agrees.

  


* * *

  


Angelica, Martha, and Aaron have all grown up and found spouses now. None of them still live in the house, but they all occasionally visit. In fact, none of her sisters, except Angie, still have kids at home. The house is starting to empty again. 

But with the election coming up, there's been more and more visitors, mostly politicians, but also some old friends. 

Washington visits one day, with his wife, Martha. Xandri hugs him when he walks through the door. 

"How are you?" 

"I'm doing fine. Mount Vernon is a lot quieter than New York, though," he says with a chuckle. 

Xandri suppresses a snort. "That's a given." 

They talk about the past for a while - "Remember when you barged into the Sons of Liberty meeting?" "Oh, of course! And remember Adams's face?" - and share a few laughs before John comes home, sees his former commander, and salutes crisply. 

"Nice to see you, sir." 

"You as well, Laurens. You as well." 

The election sneaks up on them. It feels like it's a month away, but in the blink of an eye it's a week away, and then in the span of a heartbeat it's here. Neither Aaron nor Thomas have contacted her again in person, though she still exchanges letters with both. John still hasn't publicly announced support for either. 

She waits, with bated breath and alongside every other citizen of the United States, for the winner to be declared. The tension mounts and mounts, but the official statement is that it's not over - it's a tie. 

John, now a Representative in the House, needs to cast a vote for one of the candidates to see who's the next President. The outcome rests in the hands of less than five hundred people. 

Then, because the universe hates them, John's vote ends up being the deciding factor in a perfectly divided House. Xandri groans and buries her head in her hands upon hearing the news. 

The only good thing is that John thinks with his head, not heart, anymore. He casts his vote exactly as she advised, to Aaron. 

Aaron becomes the next President of the United States of America. 

Internally, Xandri is conflicted. Aaron is her brother, yes, and also a friend, but Thomas is perhaps an even closer friend, with what they went through in France. She doesn't know who she'd vote for, if given the chance. 

It doesn't matter. Exactly three days after the election results are declared, a letter arrives for John. She recognizes the handwriting - it's from Thomas. 

Xandri opens the letter apprehensively. She's still unsure of whether or not Thomas will be irrational (she's betting on the former), and the fact is that when men get unreasonable, they tend to challenge each other to a duel. It's perpetually frustrating. 

Sure enough, when she reads over the elegant cursive on the paper, it indeed challenges John Laurens to a duel with Thomas Jefferson for insults to the latter's person and character. Xandri wants to roll her eyes - if he only knew who told John to vote for Aaron. 

That's a thought. 

She makes a decision. 

A letter is sent back to Thomas, under John's name, written by her hand. It asks for proof of his accusations. He responds in outrage. 

These mindless letters continue for some time, almost until the inauguration, until it finally reaches its flash point - 

_If you truly do not wish to apologize, meet me at Weehawken tomorrow at dawn. My second is James Madison._

She replies. 

_Lafayette and I will see you there._

Lafayette, because he's the least likely to ask questions. And because he's in her debt. 

Xandri sits down at her desk and pens a letter to her family. 

_Dearest John,  
If you're reading this, then I'm dead. Or dying. It's quite possible, I fear, because Thomas doesn't seem to be the kind of person to waste a shot.  
Please don't be mad that I kept this from you. He wanted to duel you. He will not. I will not allow it.  
I won't shoot him, of course. As much as he doesn't seem like it sometimes, he's my friend. And I will not shoot my friends.  
Tell Lafayette that none of it was his fault. I don't blame him for anything. Tell him to keep on living.  
Tell Aaron to lead the country true, so that my trust in him was not misplaced. Did you know, at that ball, I thought he would hurt Eliza, one day? Thankfully he hasn't.  
Tell Hercules that he needs to be there for everyone. I'm sure he'll be the most stoic of you all, but please don't lash out at him - it's just his way of coping.  
Tell my parents and the Washingtons that I'm so glad I had parental figures like them in my life. I know children shouldn't die before their parents, but it is the most unfortunate of circumstances that force me to do so.  
Tell Angie, Eliza, and Peggy that they're the best sisters anyone could ever ask for. I love them, so much, more than I could ever express, and I'm so sorry for doing this.  
I have to do this.  
Give our kids my love. Give the family my love.  
You're the best of men and best of husbands, John.  
I love you.  
Alexandria Schuyler Laurens_

The next morning, just as the world outside begins to lighten, Xandri sneaks out of bed and places the letter on the nightstand. John stays asleep. She throws on a cloak, the hood hiding her face, and leaves the house. 

Her journey takes her to Angie's house, and when she knocks on the door, luck is on her side - Lafayette answers the door. 

"What?" 

"Ssh, it's John," she whispers, voice quiet enough to pass for her husband. "Can you come with me? It's urgent." 

Lafayette looks startled but agrees. Xandri leads the way to the Hudson, where a boat is waiting. They row to Weehawken in silence. 

When they get to the dueling ground, the sun just barely peeking from the horizon, Lafayette turns to her. "John, what?" 

"Thomas Jefferson," she whispers back, and that's all the explanation he needs. 

Thomas and James are already there. As Xandri and Thomas stand across the clearing, staring at each other, Lafayette and James try to sort everything out in the middle. Xandri knows they will not succeed. 

She is right. 

They count their paces - _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine_ \- and on the tenth, she turns around, faces Thomas, and fires in the air. A harmless shot. 

But his gun is pointed straight at her, and it's smoking - which means- 

The bullet hits her in the ribs, and Xandri can feel it tearing through muscle and organs and arteries, can feel it scrape bone and come to a stop somewhere in her body. Curiously, there's no pain. 

She doesn't move, and Thomas furrows his brow. Very clearly, he reloads his gun. He plans to have another round. 

Xandri copies him. She still feels numb. 

The second time they count off, it's the exact same. Her bullet flies into the sky, but he shoots at her again. 

It hits her in her right shoulder, shattering the bone exactly where she was injured nearly eight years ago, and suddenly everything _explodes_ in pain. 

Xandri screams. It's long, and loud, and very much _not_ a man's voice. She can't do anything about that, though, as fire races through her body. 

Thomas yells, "WAIT!" to no one in particular as she collapses to the ground, her hood falling off to reveal that she is not, in fact, John. Lafayette rushes over, his expression horrified. 

"Xandri?" 

She chuckles wetly and coughs up blood. "Hi." 

"No, no. Xandri, stay alive, you're going to be okay-" 

"Hah." 

Another shadow falls over her, and Lafayette looks up and snarls. "Why are you still here?" It's Thomas, then. 

With great effort, Xandri sits up, propped up only by her left arm. She waves Lafayette's words away. "Thomas can be here if he wants. I don't particularly mind." 

Lafayette makes a disapproving sound. She glares at him as much as she can, through the pain. 

Thomas makes a choked noise. "Xandri, I'm sorry, I thought you were John-" 

"John doesn't know about the duel yet." 

Everyone falls into stunned silence. 

Xandri collapses again as her arm gives out, and she struggles to breathe as the pain intensifies. "You know, Thomas, I'm not surprised you shot me," she says as conversationally as she can. Anything to distract from the pain. 

"I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry, Xandri, just don't die, I'll do anything!" 

"You shot her," Lafayette snarls. "Maybe you should think about that." 

The doctor comes over, but Xandri shakes her head. "Don't bother with me, doctor. You and I and everyone here knows I won't get through this." 

He gives her a sad half-smile and nods before walking away. Both Lafayette and Thomas are too shocked to protest. 

Her vision tunnels, and she knows it's the end as Lafayette and Thomas kneel over her, sobbing. Slowly, she goes numb, and then her hearing disappears. A soothing void beckons somewhere below her. 

Xandri falls into the darkness.

  


* * *

  


John finds the letter five minutes before Lafayette knocks on the front door with news. His heart sinks at his friend's expression. 

"No." 

"Xandri's dead." 

With those two words, his entire world shatters. 

Tears run down his face as he pushes the letter - _code duello, number six, leave a note for your next of kin_ \- into Lafayette's hands. Lafayette barely manages to read for a few seconds before dissolving in tears as well. 

The entire world finds out about Xandri's death in the New York Post the day after. Suddenly, the Schuyler mansion becomes so visited that John closes the grounds to all but close friends and family. Xandri's sisters, his friends, and all their kids choose to stay in the Schuyler mansion. They all read her letter, eventually. No one touches Xandri's room. 

The funeral is held the following week, on a gloomy Saturday morning. It's a private affair, thankfully, and everyone is crying without regard for propriety. John doesn't know what to say. He delivers a eulogy anyways. It's only right. 

The funeral is over quickly, and the crowd disperses just as the sky opens up and the rain starts to fall. 

Even the weather mourns for Xandri. 

John is about to make his way back to the carriage when he sees a lone figure standing before the tombstone under the light rain, without an umbrella. He tells the rest of them to go on without him and makes his way back to Xandri's grave. 

It's Jefferson - John can't find it in himself to refer to the man as Thomas now, not that he ever could - and he feels anger crystallizing into something wicked and sharp in his chest. 

"Didn't think you'd care to come," he says coldly as soon as he's within speaking distance. 

Jefferson startles and looks up, eyes red. "John." 

"You don't get to call me that." 

"Laurens-" 

"You killed her," he spits. "You killed Xandri, and I won’t be pressing charges, because death would be too kind for you." 

"I know." 

When John takes a closer look at Jefferson, he sees a broken man. His face is crumpled - no, _shattered_. 

Neither of them says another word, and eventually, Thomas places a small bouquet of hyacinths on the grave and leaves. John takes one last look at the headstone before following him. 

_Alexandria Schuyler Laurens. Beloved daughter, sister, wife, mother. We'll keep on living for you._

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: hyacinths represent regret and asking for forgiveness.  
> Hello once again!  
> It's been a wild journey since September, and thank you so much for following it to its end (or even just checking this story out). Regardless, and though the series has come to an end, it will always hold a special place in my heart. As always, comments and kudos are appreciated, and I have a tumblr [here](https://eileeny.tumblr.com/).  
> Stick around if you wish, because I have many more stories in the works.  
> -Leeny


End file.
